


A Banker's Throne

by ninetiesnecklace



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Ross, Desk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Slight Power Play, Top George, Warleggan Bank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetiesnecklace/pseuds/ninetiesnecklace
Summary: “Why have you come here?” George asked.“To look at your empire,” Ross said slowly.





	A Banker's Throne

Night had fallen several hours ago and still George was at the bank. No, not the bank – _his_ bank. The purple banners flying next to the entrance, his sigil sewn in to match the words above the door proclaimed proudly what George had been working on for so long. _Warleggan Bank_. George leaned back in his chair for a moment and indulged himself in a smile. All the extra work that compelled him to stay long after closing time were a small inconvenience in the greater scheme of things. Sure, he would have liked to see more of Elizabeth now that they were married. But he had worked so hard to achieve this and George was no man to stagnate and merely revel in his success. Luckily, Elizabeth was very understanding. And any night he did not have to stand Aunt Agatha’s company was a good one. The old hag seemed to watch him even more closely recently and to his own dismay George couldn’t shake his uneasiness when faced with her.

Oh well, George thought, just a matter of time. He took a fresh candle, lit the wick on the dying flame and pressed it into the candlestand. The huge room was barely illuminated from the fireplace on the one side and the candle on his desk.  George leaned back over the columns he was working on when he heard a creaking in the hallway. His hand froze over the quill he was about to take. That could only be one of the floorboards. The house was old and had its distinctive sounds but this was not one of them. George had spent many hours here, listening to clients come and go, every one of them passing the creaking floorboard just outside his office. No, this was no normal sound. This was someone trying to sneak up on him. Quietly, carefully he opened the drawer and reached out for his pistol as he listened closely – the creaking had stopped for a second and just when he got out of his chair it sounded again.

George’s heart beat heavily. Banks were an attractive target for criminals, of course, but he had taken precautions. He had hired men to guard the way to the vault, invested in strong doors. Which did not exactly do him any good at the moment, seeing that he had left his door open. The flickering light from the fireplace tried to fool his eyes and George took a deep breath. Then, he lifted his arm and aimed the pistol at the door.

 

 * * * * * * * * *

Ross cursed silently as he took his foot off the creaking floorboard. He should have known not to trust the plush carpet to swallow all sounds. Especially concerning the fact that he wasn’t entirely sober anymore.

“Come out,” George’s voice called from inside the office, pressed yet confident, and Ross huffed. So much for his surprise entrance.

He walked into the office and if he had refused the last drink he would have stopped dead in his tracks – George was standing behind his desk, loaded pistol in hand and aiming right at his chest. But instead Ross merely lifted his hands to hip height and slowly walked over the threshold into the light from the flames.

“It’s me, George.”

George’s skin looked paler than usual as he stood there, still dressed in his business attire. Expensive cloth of a deep red, nice cut, pristine neckcloth. Ross didn’t exactly follow fashion but it was clear to everyone who laid eyes on George that this outfit must have cost a fortune. But what really caught Ross’ eyes was the look of utter surprise on George’s face.

“Ross.”

For a moment the syllable resonated through the large room, only accompanied by the cracking of the firewood.

Ross nodded. “In the flesh.”

George’s eyes were still wide as his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Ross wondered what exactly crossed George’s mind. The barrel of the pistol still stared at him, the metal glinting, when George recovered. Slowly, he lowered the weapon and put it back in the drawer, eyes fixed on Ross.

It was almost disheartening to see George put the pistol down. There had been times when Ross’ arrival had not been considered as harmless as it was now. Times when they would meet more often, fight more often, fuck more often. The memory of their last encounter was still fresh in Ross’ mind – George on his back and grabbing the bed frame to which he was tied while Ross bucked into him, a mixture of gasps and moans filling the room. But now… Ross pressed his lips together and tried not to let annoyance take over. He had been edgy all day and drink hadn’t proven a successful remedy yet; his head swam slightly but that didn’t stop him from clinging to his mood. A mood that George’s behaviour only promoted. In three confident steps George walked around the table and stopped a few metres in front of Ross.

“What are you doing here?” he asked and slightly tilted his head. As if this was a perfectly normal visit, and Ross any acquaintance coming by for a chat.

It was a good question, though. The Red Lion had been crowded, loud and Ross’ mood wasn’t exactly stable enough to bear that kind of grating noise. Truth be told he stayed too long before finally leaving and roaming Truro’s deserted streets. He hadn’t planned to end up in front of Warleggan Bank but when the building rose up in front of him, the damned name in letters almost as tall as he was – Ross was drunk, yes, but not too drunk to not know what he was doing. George’s business had begun to thrive after they went their separate ways and he and Demelza? Well, it was safe to say that they could live years on a fraction of George’s wealth. It seemed that all came back to Ross, that he was the influence that prevented success. Like a bad omen, a lingering sickness. And something inside him had switched as he saw the light burning in George’s office.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Ross said, his speech dragging but not yet slurring as he stepped closer. “Holed up behind your desk and counting money.”

As if Ross had reminded him George reached behind him and shuffled the papers he had been working on to a small stack. When he faced him again Ross took another step and stopped an arm’s length away from him – far enough to not provoke him openly but close enough to see the shadows under his eyes.

George cleared his throat. “Like yourself I was keen on diversion.”

“From what?”

George merely raised an eyebrow and walked over to the cabinet. “Do you take a drink with me?” he asked, pouring one for himself already. The beautifully cut glass shone in the flickering light and Ross could only give a grunt by way of replying.

George shrugged and filled a second glass, putting it in front of Ross onto the desk.

“Why have you come here?” he asked again.

“To look at your empire,” Ross said slowly and considered the room. Expensive furniture, luxurious curtains and a metal sigil placed in front of the window, showing the Warleggan “W” in curved calligraphy. Nothing like Pascoe’s dim rooms and simple interior. As always George made a point of showing his wealth. Making sure no one dared to forget that this was _his_ territory.

“And?” George’s voice pulled Ross from his thoughts. “Satisfied with what it has to offer?”

He turned back to George and for a moment Ross thought he saw a flicker of insecurity cross his features. Yet before he could be sure George had lifted his glass and hid his mouth behind the dark red liquid of his drink. Ross smiled coldly. “It suits you.”

For a slow heartbeat all there was to hear was the hissing of the flames in the fireplace. George looked at Ross, pressed his lips together and lowered his head. Ross felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth; self-assured as he might be, George still cared what he thought of him. Just then George seemed to catch himself and nodded solemnly.

“I agree.”

Ross’ eyes narrowed. This defiant streak in George, though merely lingering, was new. And it gave Ross the target to act against he had been looking for the entire night. He took the glass and turned halfway to wave at the chair in front of George’s desk. It was beautifully crafted; the backrest featured small gilded decorations that matched perfectly with the dark green of the upholstery. Still it seemed plain in contrast to the rest of the room.

“And this,” Ross said in an overbearing gesture that was partly the alcohol’s fault, partly exactly the kind of ridicule he wanted to offer George. “This is where the poor sinner sits, asking for your help.” More of a statement than a question.

George’s jaw seemed to clench if Ross wasn’t mistaken. Still he remained calm and his voice was levelled as ever when he spoke. “This is the side of the desk reserved for clients, yes.”

_Well, aren’t you composed_. Ross ground his teeth as his own annoyance sparked again. There had to be something he could throw at George that he wouldn’t be able to shake off. Ross finished his drink and placed the glass on the desk before tossing a heated look at George.

“And from over here,” Ross walked around the desk to the banker’s chair, his hand sliding along the desks edges as he went, “you decide who is worth your time and credit.”

The venom in his voice was unmistakable. Strengthened by drink and fuelled by a jealousy he’d never admit to Ross scrutinised George’s chair. The backrest was higher, wings decorating the sides, the seat broader and generously upholstered in the same green the wide armrests were built in. A throne for a banker, for _George_.

“Ross.” Ross nearly jumped when he heard George’s voice so close to him. The banker must have slipped next to him without sound. With a side glance Ross realised just how close they were standing; the desk in their backs and the chair in front of them narrowed their space and Ross could almost feel the warmth from George’s presence next to him.

“Ross, I know you disapprove of my business,” George said so calmly Ross almost missed the tense streak around his mouth. “Always have. I do not need a reminder every time we cross paths.”

Ross clenched his teeth. He could feel the vein on his forehead pulsate and in the back of his mind he _knew_ that he was about to do something stupid.

“Sit down.” Ross’ voice dropped and even he heard the waywardness in his tone.

Something very stupid. Something very necessary.

Next to him George tensed. “Excuse me?”

Ross felt his gaze on him but he still stared at the chair, the throne George had erected for himself.

“ _Sit down_ ,” he repeated slowly, huskily.

Still George hesitated. “Why?”

Why. A simple question but coming from George it meant defiance, resistance, confrontation. And Ross was up for the challenge. His blood thumped through his veins, hot with anger, as he slowly turned his head to look at George.

“I want to see you sit here, all aloof,” Ross said in a low, pressed voice, eyes fixed on George’s face. “Like a judge pronouncing a sentence.”

No emotion flickered over George’s expression but Ross was sure that something in his eyes shifted. Something sly and cunning that struck a chord in Ross, something akin to a memory. Maybe George knew what was only a blurry notion in Ross’ vexed mind.

With a deliberate move George threw the tails of his coat back to sit down on the chair and Ross’ heart beat heavier.

_Damn_.

Inadvertently, he licked his lips at the sight. None of the banker’s earlier caution was tangible anymore. No, George sat on the chair like he belonged there – his legs were spread, the expensive cloth clinging to his skin and leaving just enough room for imagination to take over. His thighs were firmly placed on the seat, his elbows propped up on the armrest while his hands dangled free. Even the long fingers looked elegant, an extension of his upright posture and the straight shoulders just brushing against the backrest.

“Pleased?” George asked and the fine smile around his rosy lips let Ross’ throat run dry. The look he gave Ross from under his lashes was unholy – coy and confident, brimming with seduction and Ross _knew_ that he had nothing to offer in opposition. His cock pressed lightly against his breeches and _damn George_. Damn his wealth, his arrogance. Damn the need he created so effortlessly in Ross when all he wanted was to provoke him.

“Yes.” Ross’ voice was but a husky whisper. His blood rushed in his ears, his bare neck felt sweaty under the open collar of his shirt and before his mind could catch up Ross did something he never thought he’d do: in one fluent move he covered the ground between them and straddled George.

The armrests dug into his thighs and his knees scraped along the metal frame but Ross didn’t care – not when George inhaled sharply and looked up at him with his hooded eyes, when Ross’ left grabbed the top of the backrest for balance and placed his right on George’s shoulder, when Ross’ cock slid up George’s thigh and pressed against his groin. The smell of lavender hit Ross and with a grunt he leaned forward to press his lips on George’s mouth. It took George less than a second to respond to this sudden kiss. His lips opened under the onslaught and Ross slid his tongue into his mouth, greedily rubbing it along George’s. Between his spread legs Ross felt his erection growing as he tasted George – lavender, drink, and the smell he had left so often on his sheets. George moaned quietly and a hot spark surged through Ross. He sucked George’s lower lip into his mouth and without a second thought he bit down; not hard enough to draw blood but firm enough for George to gasp into his mouth. The banker returned the kiss as fiercely as Ross offered it and his hands ran up Ross’ thighs with pressure. The heat from his touch surged through the fabric of Ross’ breeches when he ground into George; his thighs pressed against George’s, his hard cock slid against the other man’s clear erection and Ross grunted in agreement. Corruptible as ever, eager as always – Ross’ head spun with alcohol and lust as George responded in kind, his hands cupping his arse and pressing him closer with the next bucking of his hips. The friction on his cock and the pressure of George’s hands made him want _more_. His right fumbled for George’s neckcloth while his lips dragged down to his jaw, licking and kissing along the clean-shaven skin.

“Ross,” George moaned when Ross pulled off the neckcloth with a determined yank, throwing it to the side. The pale neck shone in the firelight and Ross couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth on the side of his throat. George’s pulse fluttered under Ross’ tongue as he licked over it, pressed against it and sucked deeply. A gasp stumbled over George’s lips and his hands grabbed him harder – Ross ground into him again, deeper this time. God, he had almost forgotten how _good_ George’s erection felt against his, even through two layers of clothing, how exhilarating to make his pulse flutter like that. Ross’ own heart beat quickly and he felt heat building under his clothes. One shrug and he rid himself off his coat, his shirt falling open without the restraint of a waistcoat, and the next moment his hands were on George again to undo the buttons of his vest.

Ross didn’t lose any time. In a matter of moments he had pulled open George’s dress shirt too, baring his torso whereas the clothing still covered the banker’s arms. George’s left grabbed the open collar of Ross’ shirt to pull him into a kiss but Ross had other plans: his mouth landed on the hollow of George’s throat and greedily worked its way down. Collarbone, pec, and with a grin of anticipation Ross licked across George’s hard nipple.

“God, Ross,” George gasped and pressed closer to Ross, his fingers grabbing his curls so hard that Ross’ scalp tingled. The brunet grinned darkly. How wonderfully easy it was to make George’s voice hitch, to make him needy with nothing but a clever swipe of his tongue. Ross ground harder into him and circled his nipple, sucked, and George’s chest heaved under his lips. His hands ran down his torso and undid George’s waistband while the banker still trembled under the attention he gave his nipple. Ross moved back on George’s thigh but before the protest was out in the open George moaned again when Ross slid his hand into his breeches. Along the thin trail of hair to the soft skin, making the hardness underneath it all the more alluring. Ross pulled his mouth from George’s chest and leaned forward: one hand submerged in George’s breeches, the other propped up against the backrest so that the banker was utterly captured in this position.

His hand wrapped tightly around George’s hard cock as he began to stroke him, quickly but in a steady rhythm. The smooth skin, the pronounced vein, the way George shivered when he ran his thumb over the slit – heat washed through Ross at the familiar feeling of George’s erection against his palm, heat that made his head dizzy. His own cock pressed firmly against his breeches, the fabric tightened from his spread legs on George’s lap. The banker grabbed his thighs harder and looked up to Ross in his overbearing position and his blue eyes seemed almost black in the dim light, pupils blown with lust. But what struck a chord in Ross was another detail. George’s lips, parted and slick with both their spit, were curled up in a fine smile.

This time, Ross couldn’t suppress his moan. The sound stumbled over his lips in a shaky breath as he stared at the curved line of George’s mouth. George enjoyed announcing his pleasure openly and Ross had always revelled in that particular trait but something about this smile caught him off-guard. Something elated lay in it rather than the familiar expression of need and submission he had offered Ross time and again.

This wasn’t a mere reaction to his touches. No, this was relaxation and serenity in the face of a man who Ross thought was incapable of either. And it turned Ross on more than he had ever thought.

He dragged his thumb across the head of his cock once more and George’s smirk deepened. His right squeezed Ross’ arse and with a groan he arched his back against the green upholstery of the chair, his head coming to rest next to Ross’ hand. For a moment Ross didn’t know who held who in position anymore. Sure, his spread legs and weight held George down but Ross felt utterly captured by the sight in front of him. Seeing George enjoy his touches on this throne, the expensive coat and shirt still framing his naked torso, his lips curled into that damn confident smirk – something about it made Ross tick and his blood surged through his veins as he licked his lips; a tinge of salt added to the lavender taste. His right moved along George’s cock still and with every stroke he gained little gasps from George’s lips. The sound ran right into his own cock and with his free hand Ross cupped himself through his breeches. Just a squeeze, a touch to take the edge off that this unholy sight of George created. George’s hips moved under Ross’ weight, his fingers raking through his curls trembled with lust and the pale column of his neck looked elegant against the green padding of the chair. Sweat covered Ross’ temples and with the next upstroke on George’s cock he twisted his wrist in the way the banker liked it.

“Yes, just like that…” George moaned and Ross’ eyes followed the shiver that ran down the banker’s naked chest, his heart beating harder and his mind trying to catch up.

This open pleasure George showed for him, untainted by submission and eagerness to please – it seemed that George had matured in the time they had spent apart, rid himself of the games they used to play. And still Ross liked it. George enjoying him almost on his own terms, voicing his approval rather than his need unhinged something in Ross he could neither describe nor explain. His hand pressed harder against his own cock as his eyes caught the golden gleam of the sigil in the window. _W_. Warleggan. The unmistakable master of this house. Ross’ hand twisted again and to the sound of George’s low moan it hit him.

Not a mere judge. A king, and Ross almost hated himself for the analogy. A king, if only in the halls George had built for himself. But regal nonetheless.

Ross' body tingled and suddenly he was acutely aware of his spread legs pressing against George’s thighs, of the nobility in George he had never granted him, of a strange desire roaring in him. Ross’ mouth opened and before he could form another coherent thought the words tumbled over his lips.

“Fuck me.”

Ross’ voice sounded hoarse in his own ears as it resonated between them, joining the crackling of the fire and the rustling of their garments. George’s eyes widened and he stared at him. His hands were still on Ross’ arse and in his curls but remained motionless for a second, almost comically.

“Ross…” he breathed out and the brunet could see the confusion and unspoken questions plainly on George’s face.

“Fuck me,” Ross repeated, slower this time, feeling the sound roll of his tongue. Such simple two words and _god_ did he mean them.

George still looked at him in surprise but his mind seemed to catch up quicker than Ross’ own when he licked his lips and nodded.

“Second drawer from the top,” George’s said, voice just as hoarse as Ross’ had been.

_Of course_. Ross wasn’t even surprised – in fact, the very circumstance that George kept oil in his office inexplicably aroused him. The things this desk must have seen, even in the short time that Warleggan’s bank was open for business… Ross nodded and with a slow stroke he pulled his hand of George’s cock before sliding off his lap. George’s muted groan followed him when Ross pulled off his coat and shirt and turned to the desk. He leaned down slightly and he could almost feel George’s eyes caress his skin, drinking in his shoulders and muscled back, down to the clothed arse and legs. Ross grinned. Whatever insane thing was bound to happen here, George wanted it as much as he did.

He opened the drawer and found the vial between spare inkwells and blank sheets. In his back he heard rustling and when he turned around there was George in his space. Naked chest, his garments lying next to Ross’ on the floor, his breeches undone and barely clinging to his narrow hips. His eyes were hooded yet focussed and before Ross could ascertain whether he felt trapped George took the vial from his hand and kissed him hard.

Ross’ heart beat heavily as he tasted George’s lips again. The ever-present lavender joined with the smell of fresh sweat and drink and Ross gasped when George’s tongue slid into his mouth. His free hand raked through Ross’ curls and the brunet felt George’s moan vibrate against his lips; a lustful sound, an arousing reverberation and without another thought Ross fumbled with his own breeches. The fabric brushed over his hard cock and then there was the clang of glass on wood when George put the vial down, his fingers sliding under the waistband and pushing the breeches down with purpose. He kissed Ross harder and licked into his mouth with a groan that was positively filthy. God, Ross felt hot all over.

“Your boots,” George whispered hoarsely against Ross’ mouth. Not quite a command, more of a reminder and Ross was more than ready to move things along. With a grunt he leaned back against the table and George’s lips followed – his hands on Ross’ hips felt heavy but not as eager as his mouth kissing his jaw and moving down his throat. Ross breathed heavily and with a few clumsy movements his boots fell to the floor.

“Ross,” George moaned against his throat and when Ross nodded he pulled his breeches down for good. The warmth from the fireplace sneaked up his legs, caressing him with invisible hands when he stepped out of his breeches. One step and George pushed against him with his entire body, pressing his hard thigh against Ross’ naked erection. The brunet couldn’t help but moan and then he felt George’s strong arms wrap around his waist and leg. With a gasp Ross followed suit and George lifted him onto the wooden desk. The smooth surface hit Ross’ bare skin and for a moment he felt strangely exposed. Not only his nakedness struck him but the very spot: sitting buck-naked on the desk upon which George conducted his business, from where he controlled his self-made empire – it all meant something but before Ross could decide whether he liked the insinuation or not his gaze fell on George’s face. No trace of smugness or superiority distorted his features, no arrogance for once. Ross’ throat ran dry.

George looked at him with the utmost desire. His eyes were fastened on him and clouded with lust under his heavy lids. His lips shone in the half-light but showed no trace of the earlier smile that had set Ross off – instead, they were parted in anticipation. His hands still lingered on Ross’ body and suddenly, following a strange impulse, Ross leaned back on his arms. His head was reeling, residue of alcohol and a very prominent need making him light-headed. Something was happening here, something that compelled him to present himself like the cheapest whore in town. And for George, nonetheless. Ross’ chest heaved in desire as he looked down his own torso, his muscled stomach and his hard cock mere centimetres away from George’s touch. The flames from the fireplace threw moving shadows on the banker’s pale skin and just then, Ross’ hips moved in need. George drew in a sharp breath but still hesitated – almost as if he was afraid that Ross would take back the demand he had gasped out minutes before.

“George,” he growled impatiently and George looked up at him, suddenly focussed.

As if his name had broken a spell George moved. His hands slid up to Ross’ waist as he leaned over him and kissed him with fervour. Ross’ body reverberated with George’s lustful moan as their tongues slid against each other but his weight on his arms kept him from grabbing George. Sweat covered Ross’ skin in a thin layer as he lay there, almost like an offering to a king, hard and impatient for George to take him. A strong hand pushed against his chest and with a needy grunt the brunet let himself fall back on the desk. The surface felt cool against his heated skin and then there was George hovering over him, the opened vial in his hand. Ross could barely contain himself. Seeing George stand over him like this with his fingers coated in ointment, about to touch him – this was real, and Ross’ blood rushed through his veins so loud he feared it was audible. George looked at him with that same ravenous expression and on instinct, Ross pulled up one leg. It was meant to be demanding yet his head spun as the vulnerability of the position hit him. God, this was crazy.

But then George’s naked waist brushed against his pulled-up leg and as his mouth closed over his nipple Ross gasped for air. God, the pressure of George’s tongue toying with his hard nipple was so _delicious_ ; Ross’ hand darted out and grabbed a fistful of his cotton hair, hips pushing up for friction. Just then, George ran his finger between Ross’ cheeks.

“Christ, George,” Ross gasped out in surprise at the sudden pressure on a spot that hadn’t been touched by another man for years. George’s fingertip remained pressed against his hole for a second and with a swipe of his tongue against Ross’ nipple he repeated the stroke across it, settling into a slow rhythm. Ross felt his body tense up slightly, the new sensation weighed against the pleasure on his chest. He took a breath and loosened his fingers that had grabbed George’s hair tightly. How strange it felt – not unpleasant though since George’s touch was soft and the ointment somewhat warm as he stroked across his entrance again. George’s mouth moved on to his other nipple when Ross felt his finger push into him. Slowly, carefully. And utterly intriguing.

A tremble ran through Ross’ thighs when George pushed on, his fingers feeling so _long_ in the tightness of his body. He breathed in strained breaths and tried to relax consciously. Yes, he remembered this, the dull pressure before it all turned to pleasure, and even though it had been ages Ross was determined to enjoy this encounter. New and strangely familiar at the same time when he recalled the gentle face of the boy back at school. The contrast to George’s sharp features couldn’t be greater but when the banker sucked his nipple into his mouth Ross forgot all about the past – he grunted and in this moment of distraction George pulled back his finger a bit only to push it in again. Ripples of pleasurable sensation scattered through Ross’ body on both spots George was so busy attending to. Yes, this was a change he liked. The rhythm George set was smooth and predictable for Ross to follow and another drag of the banker’s teeth against his chest joined the feeling of his finger perfectly.

With every thrust the pressure against his passage began to feel better – better than before, downright good, and when another of George’s slicked fingers slid into him Ross bit his lip to mute his aroused moan. The stretch was _nice_ and George expertly changed the pace of his thrusts. Ross’ eyes widened when he looked down his chest, watching George’s mouth play with his nipples. His bumpy shoulders moved whenever his hand carried out the next push into him, muscles shifting under pale skin, and Ross’ thighs pressed firmly against his waist. A frame for George’s naked torso, a vision for Ross. With a sultry glance George looked up and his mouth moved upwards until Ross felt his lips suck on his sweaty throat with vigour, surely hard enough to leave a bruise as visible as the “W” in the window. A mark of his own on Ross’ body. Before Ross could figure out why this thought was so incredibly arousing George’s fingers slowed down for a moment only to pick up the pace again. Fuck, this new speed… Ross rolled his hips into the movement and rocked back on George’s fingers as well as he could. His cock rubbed against George’s naked stomach and Ross felt his free hand in his curls, tugging at them to the sound of the banker’s moan. God, George was as turned on as he was and while Ross’ cock surely left a wet trail on his stomach George’s cock must press firmly against the undone breeches, turning every moment into sweet torture. The very image made Ross grind down on George’s fingers again when the banker licked the shell of his ear only to drag his teeth along the same path. This time, Ross couldn’t stifle the low moan in his chest. His back arched and _god_ , George’s fingers pushed deeper, so much deeper into him. Knuckles brushed against his tender skin and Ross dug his nails into George’s upper arm, feeling the muscles work.

“You like it?” A rough tone, laced with desire and fuelled by lust and Ross couldn’t make out whether it had been George’s voice close to his ear or whether he asked himself – in any case, the answer was the same.

“Yes,” Ross groaned. “God, yes.” And George’s fingers brushed close to a spot inside him that Ross had almost forgotten he had – something _almost_ unhinged in him, close but not quite there, a hint, a tease, an already intoxicating fraction of the pleasure that awaited him. His groan couldn’t be stifled anymore as hard as he tried. His throat felt raw and his legs around George’s waist began to pull him closer; George’s undone breeches slid down further and the banker gasped.

“George,” Ross moaned and moved his legs to somehow undress George entirely, “fuck, get on with it.”

“Gladly,” George whispered and the sound of his voice hit Ross like a physical blow. Rough and turned on, yes. But underneath the sheer lust was a solemn tone, regal, and so goddamn in charge that it went straight to Ross’ neglected cock. Before he could place the sensation George pulled his fingers from Ross’ body and when he lifted his head his dishevelled hair fell into his eyes. A debauched king, a man who could ask _things_ of Ross in that very moment he looked at him with those perfect bedroom eyes. But George posed no question – his touch left Ross to pull his breeches down for good and when the brunet propped himself up on his elbow his eyes caught George’s hands. From nowhere George had pulled the vial of oil again. He tipped it, the liquid pouring over the long fingers Ross had just felt so prominently inside him; a few drops ran down George’s hand and fell on his naked cock and then his hand wrapped around his erection. As impatient as Ross was, this moment right there made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t only the tight grip George had on his cock or the shaky moan he uttered with dry lips and a long look at Ross’ frame. Not only the shimmer his oily hand left on his flush erection when he stroked himself. No, what unsettled Ross so intriguingly was the entire view he had of George for a short moment. He saw the broad shoulders George tried to conceal when dressed, the chest that showed that he wasn’t one to work on the fields but still kept fit, the narrow waist and hips that were adorned with a thin trail of light hair leading to his hard cock.

All between Ross’ own spread legs.

George’s hand sneaked down under Ross’ right leg before both his hands closed around his hips, pulling Ross into position with determination. It was strange to be manhandled that way but damn, the way George held his legs apart and directed him made Ross’ arms give in and he lay back again – offered up, hard, and so damn ready for George to take him. And the hungry expression on George’s face told him that he felt the same. Not a moment passed until Ross felt George’s cock nudge against his slick entrance and before he could take another breath he felt the banker push into him.

“George,” he groaned from deep in his throat as the girth of George’s cock stretched his hole. So much _more_ than the fingers and Ross’ pulse thumped against his skin as if he wanted to break it. This felt _good_. An uncontrolled shiver ran through his body and when he looked at the banker Ross moaned again; throat shimmering with sweat and lips bitten in pleasure yet still the sound of his gasps made it out. A stray lock stuck to George’s sweaty temple as he moved his hips, pushing into Ross again and setting a keen rhythm. Ross’ chest rose and fell in quick succession as he felt George move inside him – the blunt pressure against his passage sent sparks through him and when Ross looked at the banker he knew he was in for a memorable experience: George’s eyes were glazed with lust as he caught Ross’ gaze. Something wild seemed to lurk behind it, yet still there was this earnest intensity that kept it at bay – an interplay of forces Ross couldn’t begin to comprehend, reigned by a control he had never seen in George. His thrusts were on the verge of being hard and Ross _liked_ it. His head spun under the sheer intensity playing out on George’s face and his cock, god, his cock dragged along all the right places inside Ross.

“Fuck, George,” Ross couldn’t stop himself from saying George’s name, from moaning at every goddamn touch of the other man. If he had half his mind at his disposal he would have hated himself for the sounds he uttered – needy, loud, _greedy_ for George. Moans fell from his lips and George’s stifled breaths mixed into it, a symphony of sinful sounds that Ross didn’t remember participating in. George’s right slid up Ross’ thigh and for a short moment he anticipated pressure on his cock. God, George jerking him off while he fucked him… but the banker’s hand moved on, stroking upwards to leave a shining trail of oil on Ross’ skin. Ross’ left grabbed his arm and without a second thought his free hand grabbed George by the neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. The change of angle made George’s left move and with it, Ross’ leg – he pulled it higher and when their lips met, Ross gasped into the kiss. George’s cock slid deeper into him and judging by the vehemence of his tongue the banker liked it as much as Ross did. Fuck, George’s hips moved faster, pushed harder while his mouth produced moan after moan. His cock and tongue fucked Ross alike and the brunet could hardly react to the onslaught of sensation. All he knew was that George was everywhere, taking possession of his every last cell when his nails scraped along his thigh and his other arm quivered under his weight, propped up next to Ross’ head.

Ross sucked George’s bottom lip into his mouth, tasting salt and need as he ran his free hand down his moving waist to grab that perky little ass. George’s thrusts were so good, brushing close to his sweet spot time and again as Ross’ cock rubbed against the banker’s stomach. The anticipation was cruel and enticing when Ross’ body vibrated with lust and the hope that George would finally hit his prostate in earnest. His thrusts were hard enough to make Ross’ back rub against the desk, the inkwells on it ringing as they bumped into each other, but that last bit… Ross tightened his hand on George’s ass to direct him while his other hand sneaked between them; his cock was throbbing with the need for a firm hand. But just then George broke the kiss and before Ross could slide his hand down his sweaty stomach and to his erection the banker acted: in a quick move he pulled his weight off his arm, grabbed Ross’ wrist and the next moment Ross felt his hand pressed against the table, next to his head.

Ross gasped out, another involuntary sound among the many, and on instinct his wrist pushed against the grip. But George held him down firmly, eyes fixed on him and a shiver of arousal ran through Ross.

“Don’t,” George growled and then it hit Ross. The simple yet undeniable fact that _George_ decided how Ross would be fucked.

Ross’ mouth went dry and something in his chest fluttered. Here he was, on his back, George’s cock inside him and for the first time in their encounters he did not have the upper hand. George was in charge, not only of his own pleasure, but of Ross’ as well – and he’d be damned if this wasn’t new and utterly exciting. Between his legs George moved, deep as before, when the next thrust hit his sweet spot.

A ragged groan came out of Ross’ throat when his whole body seemed to erupt in pure, undiluted sensation. Sparks shot through him in irregular waves to chase each other and his head was spinning - his eyes fluttered shut in intense pleasure and without his doing his back arched. Left wrist pinned down by George’s hand, right thigh grabbed he arched, straining, moaning so goddamn loud. George pulled back and thrust into him again, hit his prostate again and fuck, for the first time in his life Ross felt like losing himself. The rush carried him off, sucked him in like a maelstrom of pleasure that would tear him to pieces.

George thrust on, his hips snapping hard and to the sound of his moans and eyes fixed on Ross’ face. But the brunet couldn’t process anything beyond the drag of George’s cock inside him and the strong hands that held him in position. Ross’ lips were dry, his throat raw and yet he couldn’t breathe without groaning again. His body felt on fire, kindled and fed by George, burning him up. His muscles twitched with every thrust and the pressure in his groin built in eagerness to erupt. His every pore seemed to thrive with pleasure. His free hand tried to grab at something but there was only the smooth surface of the table, without even the slightest gouge. His body bucked under George’s thrusts and his searching fingertips found something: paper, a small stack, and with a loud crunch his fist closed around it, opened again and clawed into George’s back. He was close, so incredibly close and inside him George’s cock twitched, his mouth sucked at his throat, his stomach rubbed along his erection. The smell of fresh sweat and sex filled Ross’ nostrils as his eyes caught the shimmer of the gilded “W” in the window. Warleggan territory, Warleggan jurisdiction and when George hit his sweet spot again Ross gave in. Every muscle in his body seemed to contract and release at the same time as his hips jerked uncontrollably and he came in staggering intensity. God, the utter rush that washed through him – fire shot through his veins and sounds cut along his lips when Ross’ back arched and his cock spilled along the trail of oil George had painted before. His hole tightened around George’s cock and his passage contracted and fuck, this felt like nothing he ever felt before: he was coming with George’s cock inside him, pushing against his sensitive walls and sharp pleasure mixed into his orgasm. His hips moved and when George’s thrusts pushed deeper into him still, fucking him still, Ross could help but moan his name over and over. George’s cock twitched inside him and another thrust sent him over the edge as well; the banker groaned and Ross felt him spill hotly into him, their orgasms aligning in an utterly debauched whirlwind of sensation, sweat, sounds and cum. Their strained gasps echoed through the room and George pressed his face into the crook of Ross’ neck, gushes of hot air hitting his skin while the gilded “W” still shone behind the brunet’s closed eyes. He felt incredible – shaky, though, but nothing short of amazing when George pushed into him a few more times and a few ripples of pleasure scattered through him. Ross’ heart beat heavily, his breath still quick and shallow but slowly he was coming down from the intense part of his orgasm – his body, though worn-out, seemed to respond to his orders again when he opened his eyes. George’s back was moving with his heavy breaths and around Ross’ hand there were red lines from his nails imprinted in the banker’s skin.

The grip on his wrist eased up and George let go of both his arm and his legs carefully. Ross grunted softly when his thigh was released and George slipped out of him. It felt strange for a moment, this loss of pressure, the absence of George’s cock inside him when he carefully moved off of him. Ross simply lay back – he wasn’t ready yet to face the inevitable interaction after this amazing encounter. Who knew that George gave as good as he got? And as much as Ross had enjoyed his dominance over George when they fucked in the past, thoroughly encouraged by George no less, this had been just as good, if not better. Why compare, though, as he lay here all fucked out and a pleasant heaviness settling in his muscles.

He took a deep breath and slowly moved to sit up. He’d definitely feel this tomorrow. Across from him George was back in his chair, still naked, and for a moment Ross took in his relaxed posture as he leaned against the backrest. A different image than the one that set all this in motion but no less noble for some reason – his legs were stretched out, arms on the armrest and between the fingers of his left he held two pieces of cloth which Ross didn’t know where they came from. And from under his lashes George threw Ross a look that was nothing short of sultry. His stomach was sticky with Ross’ cum, his cock soft again as he held out the cloth with a minimalist gesture. Ross ground his teeth. There it was, the inane quality of enraging him in a matter of seconds. Still, the view as such was… Ross swallowed heavily as a stirring began in his groin which he wasn’t sure was possible yet. With a determined move he stood up, pulled the cloth from between George’s fingers and turned his back before cleaning himself up scantily; if the noise George made was anything to go by the banker did the same.

Ross gathered his belongings and put on his breeches again, his boots, and as he buttoned up his shirt he turned to George. The banker was in the same state of undress as he and to Ross’ surprise he offered him a slow smile. George nodded towards the desk and when Ross’ eyes followed he saw the sheets of paper he had crushed, the words and numbers seemingly tumbling around the pages.

“These were supposed to be done by morning,” George said, a hint of lightness in his tone.

“Under these circumstances,” Ross replied in the same cadence, “I suggest you get back to work.”

In one move he put on his overcoat, nodded shortly and left Warleggan bank.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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